Monday, September 11, 2017

A Time to Mourn and a Time to Dance

motivationforgood via Pixabay
Fifteen years ago, on this day, I was at work. At every break in the day, I was either watching the events unfold or in a meeting. We were hundreds of miles away from all the places so irrevocably changed by the events of just a few hours, but the impact was, nevertheless, undeniable.

The day before, I had disembarked from an airplane, my husband, preschool-aged daughter and I returning home from a trip to Orlando.

I have not been on an airplane since.

This morning in the shower, the usual barrage of ideas rained down on me along with the water. Topics for a blog post for this day, which will never be just any other day. A momentous day that everyone will be writing about -- has written about -- but a day that is, nonetheless, someone's birthday. There were five birthday notifications on my Facebook page this morning. Five people daring to celebrate on a day so many have decreed as solemn.

Like so many other days, today is both a day of celebration and a day of mourning. Hurricanes and storm surges are ravaging parts of the country, raining floods of tears and washing in waves of loss that seem sadly appropriate today. We grieve, we mourn, we wait for news.

We search for glimmers of gratitude.

Gratitude sustains us. Hope pulls us through the sludge, offering a tiny bit of sparkle in the darkness.

This day will pass and there will be other days, better days.

So we wrap ourselves in a cloak of gratitude, trying not to notice the places where the fabric is worn away, threadbare. Instead, we focus on its substance, its warmth.

Its promise.

And we celebrate.
StockSnap via Pixabay

America. Strength. Freedom.


Happy Birthday to all the September 11 babies, born before or after 2001. Thank you for reminding us that every day is a day to celebrate, to be grateful, to dare to be happy even in darkness.

To get on an airplane.

Now make a wish.

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